My Hispanic Heritage Boils Down To The Heat Within Me

My mother was used by a man right after crossing over the border. Lots of younger women suffered the same fate. They saved their limited supply of BC for the days before crossing over. It was hopeless defense, and many like my mother became pregnant. I was born in a field far inside the border. My mother developed an infection. She was carried to a clinic but her infection had already attacked her organs and she died. I was five days old, and the doctor's wife raised me. My birth papers show them as my parents. Only my DNA uncovers my mother's true heritage.

I never thought of myself as 'Mexican', although I knew I was adopted at eleven. Once I finished college and went to work I met a man who was also biracial, father Hispanic, mother American. Like me he looks white, but his DNA carries our Hispanic heritage. A night of misbehavior and we set in motion a Hispanic baby. She's so Hispanic, except her culture and behavior. Her siblings drew from both sides and avoid looking Hispanic.

My husband, yes I married him, has decided we need to find our heritage. We lived in Mexico, then Colombia. Teaching our children Spanish. Adopt Hispanic customs. I admit that none of this has made me 'Hispanic'. I don't feel it. My children? Not at all. Only my husband pretends. We are not Hispanic, only our DNA is. I quit the experiment of my husband, and went home.

There is one Hispanic trait. And that's heat. When I'm in heat only my husband can cool it. To do so, he goes manly aggressive. But I'm made for it, I'm the sheath of his sword. And he doesn't rest until his sword is exhausted. And that's my mother's g*ft to me. This heat that's kept my husband busy.